Laura Hollis and Carmilla Karnstein have this weird thing going on, but they haven't exactly DTR'd yet. Despite that, they can't seem to get their hands off each other. And Laura secretly believes it should be completely attributed to "The Hollis Effect"—whatever that is.Chapter Text
For an hour I had tried to absorb what was written on the textbook resting on my lap. It was excruciating knowing that Carmilla, my dorm mate-slash-sometimes study buddy-slash-very close friend, was only metres away from me. She was at a table across the dorm lounge, attempting to focus on her book as well. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her staring at me.
“You’re perving,” I remarked.
Carmilla made a face at me as I raised my eyes from my book.
“I’m studying, cupcake,” she said rather sternly.
“Uh-huh,” I said with obvious disbelief.
“I’d love it if you wouldn’t interrupt me again,” the dark-haired girl said prudishly.
I grinned before going back to my reading. I might be having as hard a time concentrating on the printed words in front of me as she was. Good thing, we were in the dorm lounge so we wouldn’t gamble on doing something smutty. Would we?
Just before our study session here in the lounge, it took me about a full hour to convince Carmilla that Danny was only a friend and she only swung by my room to discuss a class project. Carmilla told me she didn’t really “give a rat’s ass” about it but it was pretty obvious that she needed some explanation and assurance. And that hit me as truly ridiculous. I mean, what are we exactly? Why would she be jealous? It wasn’t like she was my girlfriend, right? I rubbed across my forehead and noticed that Carmilla’s eyes were still on me.
I lifted my head up and looked at her inquiringly, smiling slightly at the intent way she was studying me and the warm colour intensifying in her cheeks. It’s The Hollis Effect, I’m telling you.
“Nothing,” she said a bit timidly. “It’s just — never mind.”
It only made me more curious. “C’mon, Carm. What is it?”
“You’re beautiful,” she said before turning to her book again. She was suddenly blushing severely.
I only giggled soundlessly in response and thoroughly enjoyed the look on her face. Christ, she’s so freaking cute when she blushes.
“Sit with me here on the couch, Carm,” I said, patting the space beside me.
“No,” she said. “We’d never get our studying done.”
“I won’t touch you, I promise,” I said, suppressing a smirk.
“That won’t work, sweetie.”
“But I miss you already,” I complained.
“No.”
I raised my brows provocatively. “Are you afraid I’ll distract you?” I asked her as I rose to my feet and inched my way toward her.
I saw Carmilla swallow and struggle to fix her gaze on the page she was supposed to be studying.
“Like this?” I dipped my head and brushed my lips against her jaw.
“Laura,” she warned, though I saw her shudder.
I only carried on with my gentle, teasing onslaught.
“Laura!” She jerked her head away.
“Fine.” I pouted then turned on my heel and walked seductively toward the row of bookshelves. I made sure my hair and hips were swaying perfectly.
“Damn it, Laura. You’re such a goddamn tease,” grunted Carmilla, surrendering and slamming her book shut. She vaulted out of her chair and dashed after me.
I was pretending to look for a book when I felt Carmilla behind me. A triumphant smile tickled my lips. The Hollis Effect is foolproof.
Carmilla swept my hair aside with a gentle hand and placed her lips directly against my ear. “Fucking tease,” she murmured, and I couldn’t contain my grin.
She moulded the contours of my body to hers. She was a bit taller but it was amazing how well our bodies fit together, how her shoulders curved around mine, how her front protected my back. Her lips were at my cheek, emitting hot, unsteady gusts of air. I shuddered with desire and pleasure.
Carmilla then freed her mouth and turned me in her arms, licking her lips and staring at me hungrily.
“Did you get that bit about West Germanic verb clusters?” I asked her, trembling deep inside at the way her brown eyes—darkened with desire—burnt into me.
The brunette only ignored my question and began kissing my neck.
I tried again, “Carmilla, that part about the West Germanic verb—”
“Uhm-huh,” she hummed, not lifting her mouth from my neck.
A soft moan escaped my lips but I fought to keep a cool composure. “How ‘bout that reading material on the Ottoman-Habsburg wars?”
Carmilla’s hands slid down my back and curved over my flannel pyjama-clad hips.
“Cupcake,” with frustration, she murmured in my ear, “I’d love it if you would shut up.”